Forge-chan Is A Troll
Waking up to a new heart was weird. Normal people wouldn't notice, but I wasn't normal. My technopathy felt it, beating.
My body was still heavily damaged, but I was more conscious, more focussed; awake.
"Testing Communication." My voice -a duplicate's voice- rung in my brain.
I smiled internally "Communication positive."
"Alright! Forwarding physical scans. Thinking what I'm thinking?"
I mentally cringed as I was connected to the scanners watching me carefully. Noticing some neural activity snaking it's way into my facial muscles, causing a small momentary twitch.
"Yeah intensive surgery is required, but I think we should avoid rebuilding new organs or tissue if possible."
"We'd have to rebuild some, isn't it better to ensure consistency?"
I cringed at the thought of my bones being covered in new, perfected muscles. Then my Chimera knowledge jumped in with all the possible ways you could take it from there. "Cloning is an option, no need to overcomplicate matters. Not to mention, you two certainly have stuff to do."
"Well, it's your body. Question since we're doing that, willing to step up your regimen, or should we pretreat them with fiber energy?"
Tetra, who'd been mostly silent so far, made her disgust with the second option known through our bond, although it was clear she didn't find being a training tool very compelling either at this point "Don't consider the latter an option."
"Alright. Well, we'll be putting you under again, but when you wake up again, you should be much better."
-
Waking up was a fun feeling, though having stable physiology was a curious feeling after the last two days. The slight tiredness I felt was too trivial, like recovering from a flu that had been fucking with you for a day. Rationally, I knew that just indicated the success of the operation. Still, I couldn't help but feel bad for not feeling worse.
I stretched and got out of bed, walking into the hallway, immediatly running into a duplicate. "Hey, taking our 20% now, the Lab has some things they'd like sanctified and such, so here's the paperwork. And here's a potion for the next rotation."
I grabbed the stack of papers with a sigh, quickly making a cup of Elven Coffee in the kitchen, before walking into the Lab. The machine spirits all seemed to enter a buzz, while the Skulls all chirped around me affectionately. They then began the equivalent of a happy birthday song, celebrating my recovery and further 'achievement' of a more reliable body. Once again singing about how Flesh Is Weak and Steel Is Strong, a mention or two of holy war against filthy Xenos, and a single, weirdly disturbing utterance of the words "Initiate Ďuriš" in New Gothic at the end. Alternatively, it could be translated to "Brother Ďuriš", but that was no consolation.
I felt the forge move, colliding with the knowledge constellation. I angrily stormed to the fashion workshop, where I instantly crafted a divine super-comfortable blanket and screamed into it.
I had gotten a minor mote called Skills: Medicine, which made me a qualified 23rd century doctor. That was good, but also annoying considering I had just come out of major surgery.
Sometimes I could swear the forge was trolling me.
